


Jump Start

by Esselle



Series: Speed Demons [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Car Accidents, Friendship, Gen, Injury Recovery, Minor Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Street Racing, Team as Family, daisuga - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 06:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8239412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/pseuds/Esselle
Summary: ' "You came to see how I'm doing?" Kageyama asks blankly. "Why?"Daichi shrugs. "Why not? We're both in this scene, right? So I know how it is. You had some rough luck, so from one racer to another… I guess I just wanted to come wish you the best.""…Oh," Kageyama says, looking no less confused.In retrospect, Daichi supposes that this is kind of weird. But the nurse had said no one had been up to visit. Where is the kid's crew?He doesn't pry. Instead, he says, "I'm Sawamura Daichi. It's nice to finally meet you in person." '--Daichi visits a racing prodigy in the hospital after an accident and finds, in place of a hardened champion, a bedridden, frustrated boy. Injured and friendless, Kageyama is wary of opening up to anyone. But Daichi, Suga, and Asahi know that crew is family; if Kageyama has neither, they'll try to be both.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set three years before the events of the main fic 'Speed Demons', so it can be read standalone. It's less of a prequel, and more of a piece of Kageyama's background, told through Daichi's POV. 
> 
> **A warning** : I didn't tag for violence, but the beginning of this fic contains a brief description of the aftermath of a car accident. The rest of the story is safe, but if you are sensitive to blood/injury, you can skip to the first break (*) and be in the clear.

"Turn in eight hundred feet—three pronged fork—you take—"

His navigator wavers, falters. Kageyama grits his teeth as that eight hundred foot stretch narrows down to nothing in seconds. Typical.

"Take what?" he grinds out, and it's half the distance, a quarter—

"L—left! No, middle—"

No time. Kageyama yanks the wheel to the left, hoping his navigator's first instinct was correct. He glances in his mirror and swears a blue streak. He shouldn't have hoped. Not a single headlight in his rearview. Wrong direction.

"Fuck!" he shouts, shifting gears, as his black Dodge Challenger leaps down the empty stretch of road. He can make this up, he knows. But— "What the hell happened?"

"I just—it's not easy!" his navigator protested.

"You've got the same map everyone else does, don't you?" Kageyama pointed out.

"I'm not used to sitting in the passenger seat," the other man spits back. "Never had to, before you came along!"

How long will it take, for this to stop being an issue? Kageyama can't even spare him a glare. "Well, I'm here now. And I'm not going to lose, so focus up and tell me the next—"

"Oh, _fuck—_ " his passenger burst out. "Turn in two hundred, left, _LEF—"_

The road they are on is twisty, turny, lends itself to terrible rush hour traffic. Speed limit caps out at thirty-five miles per hour, all along that stretch.

Kageyama is hauling ninety-five, when he hits the turn. He's run the track before—he knows it's coming. He can easily correct his course.

But he's on the wrong path in the fork. And when he hits the turn, he's headed straight into oncoming traffic.

He jerks the wheel, but the reactions of the other racers are not as fast. He feels the force of impact as a car hits his back end and he spins out, hands tight on the wheel, trying to stop the insane slide—

He feels another impact, a sickening _crunch_ as he rams at top speed into a metal divider, and the entire driver's side of the Dark Horse crumples inward like so much tissue paper under the force of a sledgehammer. It decimates the car and for a moment, the force is so great that he blacks out. But not for long.

When he comes to, it is slowly, through a haze like water and smoke. He's still in the car, but there are people swarming it and him, voices shouting, screaming. The sound of sirens—not police. Ambulance. In the seat next to him, his navigator is passed out cold, a sluggish trail of blood seeping out of his hairline—but still breathing. Good. That's good.

Kageyama reaches for the door handle, and that is when he comes fully back to life, some kind of life, and wishes he hadn't. Because that is when he feels the pain.

It takes his breath. It's so intense he can't scream. He can't tell where it originates from, at first, because it is everything, but then he looks down and sees the rip, the jagged tear, right there across his own body, his entire lower half. It runs literally from one side of him to the other—he feels like it may be a miracle he is still one person instead of two. Dimly, he can see that there is something not right with his legs. But whatever may be happening there, he doesn't know, because he can't feel them.

When they pull him out of the car, that is when he screams. He wants to beg them to stop, because there is no way they can move him, no way they won't pull him apart, with whatever bare threads he is being held together with. But he can't form words. He is spilling out of himself. Weakly, he presses his already blood soaked hands to his stomach, as though that will help keep the two halves of him together.

Somehow, he does not tear in two. At least, his body doesn't. But his mind, that's a different story. He doesn't slip back under, not the entire way to the hospital. They are practically flying when they hit the double doors into the emergency center, and the gurney jostles, and the agony soars to new heights. He wants to pass out, he wants the pain to end, but it's keeping him tethered there. And then he hears someone murmur in shock, "Jesus, he's still alive?"

He stops begging for something to pull him under and starts praying that he stays awake. Because no matter how bad it hurts, it means he's not dead yet.

He is babbling, pleading, when they take him into surgery, feels as though he's fighting tooth and nail when they start to lower the oxygen mask over his face, even though in reality, he's barely twitching, hardly able to move a muscle. And even though it frightens him, then comes the gas, and then the numbness, and finally, sleep, sleep, and hopefully a light on the other side that doesn't lead him onward, just back out.

*

"Can we—I mean—are you _sure—_ "

Daichi exhales a slow breath as Asahi proceeds to go into mild cardiac arrest on the other side of Suga. There is much hand-wringing happening over in that corner of their group and Daichi currently needs to be focusing on other things, such as looking trustworthy, and bullshitting the nurse at the receptionist desk at the hospital into believing that he is Kageyama Tobio's next of kin. He's never even met the kid before.

"Suga," Daichi says slowly, "would you be so kind as to take the walking _dead giveaway_ over to the waiting area for the time being?"

"It's just that," Asahi says plaintively, "you really don't look anything like him."

"The _receptionist_ doesn't know that," Daichi hisses at him. "She's not cross-referencing images like we're in an episode of CSI."

"Asahi, let's go sit down over there," Suga says reassuringly. "Daichi, maybe it's best if you go up alone, for now?"

"Yes, I think that would be wise," Daichi sighs out. What on Earth he was thinking when he figured he'd bring Asahi along on this adventure, he's not sure.

In the end, they needn't have worried. It's still well into visiting hours, though the nurse looks up in surprise when he casually asks for the room number.

"Oh," she says, "good!"

"What's good?" Daichi asks blankly.

"Just that—" She looks briefly awkward. "I'm glad. I thought someone would have come before now."

"Would have…" Daichi stares. "Am I the first person to come visit him?"

She nods.

"Huh…" he says. "Thanks…"

The room is on the fifth floor, in the recovery wing. It's quiet here, no bleak sounds of destitution. Daichi stops outside room number 537, and knocks.

There's no response, and he knocks again, louder.

"Come in?" The voice that calls out sounds a bit scratchy, a little surprised. Daichi pushes the door open and slips inside.

It's a single room, which is pretty nice. He wonders who is paying for it—the kid's manager, or maybe he pitched in himself? God knows he's earned enough.

"Uh, Kageyama? Kageyama Tobio?"

Daichi doesn't need to ask, he recognizes him. Tall, even lying propped up in bed. Dark hair and eyes, which normally look angry and intense, but are now furrowed in confusion as he approaches.

"Yes?" the kid says, looking wary.

"Ah, excellent," Daichi says, coming to stand in front of the bed. "Excellent, excellent…"

Kageyama is beginning to look alarmed. "Who are you?" he asks. "I have a panic button."

Daichi blinks at him. "That's the call-for-nurse button."

Kageyama stares at him. Daichi takes another step forward.

The racer jams down on the button and it lights up. A crackly voice over the tiny speaker says, "Hello? Hello?"

"Help, there's a serial killer—" Kageyama starts to say, before Daichi leaps forward to wrestle the button from his hand.

 _"Hello?"_ comes the now insistent voice on the other line.

"We're fine!" Daichi says loudly as he muffles Kageyama's protests with one hand. "Thanks, no need for assistance."

He wrenches the thing away from the kid and tries to smile, but there is a vein popping in his temple in irritation and Kageyama just looks even more terrified.

"Calm down," Daichi says, "I'm not a serial killer!"

"That's exactly what a serial killer would say," Kageyama hisses.

"No, it's _not!"_

"How would you know that unless you are one?!"

"Okay, stop, _stop,_ " Daichi waves his hands in frustration. "This is crazy now. I'm not a murderer, I'm just another racer. I came to see how you were doing."

Kageyama slowly lowers his raised fists (what is he planning on doing from the _bed,_ Daichi wonders) and now looks more confused than anything else.

"To see how I'm doing?" he repeats blankly. "Why?"

Daichi shrugs. "Why not?" Kageyama continues to look baffled, so he continues. "We're both in this scene, right? So I know how it is. You had some rough luck, so from one racer to another… I guess I just wanted to come wish you the best."

"...Oh," Kageyama says, looking no less confused.

In retrospect, Daichi supposes that this _is_ kind of weird, it's not like he goes around to every hospital every time one of their own suffers an injury but… he sighs and rubs the back of his neck, looking Kageyama over. He really is just a kid, barely out of his teens. He'd very nearly died, from what information Daichi can gather. And…

He glances around the hospital room. Nice room, yeah. But utterly bare. No signs that the inside of it has ever seen anyone besides himself and Kageyama, aside from the hospital staff. The receptionist had even said no one had been up to visit. Which… what the hell? Where is the kid's crew?

He doesn't pry. Instead, he says, "Look, sorry for freaking you out. I'm Sawamura Daichi. It's nice to finally meet you in person."

"You… you too," Kageyama nods. "Kageyama Tobio." Daichi snorts because yes, obviously, but Kageyama doesn't seem to notice. He is so _serious._ "Have we ever raced each other?" he asks.

"Ah, no," Daichi says. "No, actually I'm not—I don't do much driving, I mostly just fix up cars. My partner's the driver but we're new in town, still getting the lay of the land."

"Oh," Kageyama says again. "And you still… you still came here? To… wish me the best?"

"Uh, yeah," Daichi nods. Okay, maybe Asahi had been onto something for once, this is getting strange. "Hope the recovery is coming along smoothly."

Kageyama nods. "Thanks."

There is an awkward silence. Daichi takes a deep breath. "Well, I'll let you get some rest, then."

The kid blinks at him. "Okay."

Daichi waves a hand at him in farewell, before stepping out the door. He lets it close—almost. Through a tiny crack, he can see into the room.

Kageyama sits in the bed, stock still for a moment. Daichi is about to leave completely when, in a flurry of movement, Kageyama tears the sheets off his lower body, and grabs at his legs. He strains, lifting his knees up by force, but then he flinches and lets the appendages fall limply to the bed. He feels around at his stomach, hands probing, and his loose shirt lifts up just enough that Daichi can see the long swath of bandage wrapping around his torso.

Kageyama clutches at his stomach, chest heaving, until his breathing finally slows and evens out. He lets his hand fall to the sheets, his head lowered. His shoulders tremble. There is only one word to describe the scenario taking place within the hospital room:  _defeated._

Daichi's mouth is dry. _Hope the recovery is coming along smoothly?_

His jaw is set when he emerges into the lobby. Suga and Asahi stand up when they see him coming.

"Is everything okay…?" Suga asks.

"Depends," Daichi says darkly.

"On?"

"Not sure yet," he replies. "But I'm coming back next week."

*

"Okay, enough with the angry eyebrows," Suga tells him much later that evening. They are just finishing up washing dishes—Daichi is drying.

"I don't have angry— _argh—_ " he breaks off, as a pair of sudsy, wet hands clamp down on his cheeks, securing his face in Suga's soapy grasp. "What?" he asks, certainly not whining. It's just that Suga's hands are cold, _really_ cold.

"You've been upset all day since we walked out of the hospital," Suga tells him, as if he hadn't known that himself. "Tell me what happened. Was he rude to you or something—"

"No, no, nothing like that," Daichi says quickly. "It's just…"

He feels _heavy_ as he relays what had happened earlier to Suga, what he had seen after he'd left the dim hospital room and its lone occupant, and he can see the emotions reflected in the other man's eyes. For all that they've grown up in the underground, they've never let it harden who they are as people.

Suga frowns heavily. "The nurse, she told you _no one_ has been to see him?"

"It seemed that way," Daichi says. "I mean, I don't think he can walk. And he's obviously still in pain and—and it seems like nobody from his side even cares?"

"We'll care," Suga says instantly, and Daichi takes those soapy hands and squeezes them in his own, reminded not for the first time of just why he went chasing after Suga's tail lights, all those years ago.

"Yeah," Daichi says, and smiles. "Yeah, okay."

"And I think I need to have a talk with his manager," Suga continues, looking more and more incensed. "What kind of a crew doesn't even visit one of their own in the hospital after—"

"Okay, you're already helicopter parenting, you haven't even met him yet," Daichi interrupts. "Let's try and get a clear picture of the situation before we go in guns blazing, yeah?"

Suga deflates—slightly. "Alright. Fine. I will withhold judgment until after I meet him next week."

"You're going to come up with me?" Daichi asks, surprised. He's not sure why he's surprised, honestly.

"Well, yeah," Suga says, like it should be obvious, which it sort of was. "I should have come up the first time—he thought you were going to stab him."

"Maybe I need to work on my introduction," Daichi muses.

"Oh, Daichi, you need no introduction," Suga teases.

"Clearly I do," Daichi says, "because without one I am easily confused for a serial killer."

The kiss Suga gives him then is very wet, due to an overabundance of laughter.

*

"So, let me get this straight," Kageyama says. "You came back because…"

"He's a huge fan of yours," Daichi says, jerking his thumb in Suga's direction.

"I thought you both pretty much just moved here," Kageyama reminds him.

"We did," Suga says. "I just have a very discerning eye."

Kageyama looks at him for a moment before turning to stare at Asahi. "And you?"

Asahi laughs awkwardly. "Well, Daichi said I should co—" He breaks off with a wheeze when Daichi knees him in the ass. "—come meet you, because I am also such a huge fan."

"And!" Suga says, eyes widening plaintively, clutching onto the rails of Kageyama's hospital bed. "Daichi here didn't even get us autographs! Can you believe it?!"

Kageyama's face scrunches up. "I don't really do autographs—"

"Please, Mr. Dark Horse, sir!" Suga wails, and Kageyama covers his face in his hands, and Daichi grins.

"I'll sign something," Kageyama says, from behind his hands, "if you promise never to call me that again."

"Deal," Suga agrees, beaming.

Two minutes later, he's holding up a slightly stained napkin they snagged off Kageyama's lunch tray, with Kageyama's messy, grade school like scrawl across the edge of it.

"Ooh, he even signed just the corner, like a real pro," Suga says, elbowing Asahi in the side. Asahi is holding, and staring bewilderedly at, a signed banana. Peel, technically, but it has not actually been separated from the banana as of yet. This was Daichi's idea, when they couldn't find any more scraps of paper, and an excellent idea it was, he maintains. It becomes less excellent when Suga says decisively, "We should frame these."

"We're not framing the banana," Daichi tells him.

"Daichi, the banana was your idea, moments ago you were raving about the novelty."

"That was before I considered the possibility of a rotting banana hanging on our living room wall."

Kageyama clears his throat loudly. "So, what—"

They all turn to look at him like they've just remembered he's there. He purses his lips.

"Sorry, but, um… is that all you wanted?"

"If—if you'd like us to go—" Asahi starts to say, already working up to the apology, but Suga cuts him off.

"Well, the autograph was fantastic—I'll take a picture to send to you once it's framed, by the way—but anyway, as long as we're here…"

God bless Sugawara Koushi, Daichi thinks, watching as Suga launches into some kind of discussion about—soup bases? He's honestly not sure, but Suga can get anyone talking about anything, and pretty soon the other three are embroiled in a decently heated discussion about what types of soup are empirically the best ( _"Clear_ soups, Suga, are you insane?!" Asahi yelps, the most vocal disagreement Daichi has ever heard out of him). Kageyama mostly listens over arguing, but he does put his two cents in and at the end of the discussion, he is nodding as Suga casually tells him he will bring him some _good_ soup—with an eyeroll in Asahi's direction—next time they visit.

They wave their goodbyes, and Daichi could swear that Kageyama looks less pale, less severe, than when they came in.

Suga absently hands Daichi the napkin on the way out.

"Yes?" Daichi asks, amused.

"For hanging," Suga informs him. He shows Daichi his cell phone, where the new contact Kageyama Tobio now resides. "I told him I'd send him a picture, so you'd better be ready to play handyman. _No,_ Asahi," he says to the tall man, who is a millimeter away from tossing the signed banana.

Daichi sighs. "The banana can go up," he concedes. "Just for the picture."

They do it that night and send the snapshot of the napkin and fruit hanging side by side to the kid. It's late, and the effort had involved much swearing and pulling out of crooked nails on Daichi's part, and ice cream eating on Suga and Asahi's, so they're not expecting a response.

But it is worth it when, not a minute later, Suga's phone buzzes with a single text message:

 **KAGEYAMA TOBIO  
** _banana :) lol_

"...Huh," Daichi says, looking down at the phone.

"He's a smiley face guy?" Suga wonders.

"Would _not_ have guessed," Asahi remarks, and the other two agree.

*

For the next few weeks, they continue on this way. Sometimes it's just Daichi visiting, sometimes with Suga or Asahi or all three of them together. As the days go on, more and more often he gets to the hospital to find one of the other two beat him there, after work, or between jobs—Suga makes good on his promise of soup deliveries and carries on conversation topics without Kageyama ever having to say a word. Asahi fairly buries the boy in car magazines, and they spend hours poring over them together in silence, with one of them occasionally pointing something out to the other, who then nods quietly in assent.

Throughout it all, Kageyama continues to be more emotive through text message than in person, but Daichi is positive he can detect a change. The dark-haired man has lost most of his initial reticence. Instead of seeming to relax when it comes time for them to leave, he has found ways to make them stay—an observation that sends Suga spinning off onto another tangent, a question directed at Asahi about an older car model. To Daichi, he always asks what day and time they'll be back (he says it's so that he's prepared to accept guests).

Daichi isn't really sure what they're doing, what they want to accomplish. He just knows that in all the time they've been there, they've never seen anyone else. So they keep showing up.

They start to befriend the hospital staff eventually. The nurses all love Asahi, clustering around him every time he so much as blushes, and they joke with Daichi about the serial killer incident, as often retold by Suga, who has already been invited to several potlucks. It's Suga who hears most of the gossip, and that's how they find out about the one thing potentially more troubling than Kageyama's lack of visitors.

They're headed home on Daichi's bike, Suga sitting behind Daichi with his head resting against Daichi's back. He leans forward to talk in Daichi's ear, to be heard over the wind.

"So, I was talking to one of the nurses today—"

"A shocking new development!" Daichi calls over his shoulder, and Suga punches his shoulder.

"Without me, we would not have convinced the hospital staff to let us throw a Mario Kart party in Kageyama's room, with liquor. Please show some respect."

Daichi nods in acquiescence. Truly, the Mario Kart party had been one for the ages. He'd needed a full day to recover. "What did the nurse say?"

"She told me Kageyama was making better progress in his physical therapy sessions."

Daichi swivels a bit, wanting to look at Suga. "That's great!" he yelps. It's something none of them have really talked about, and not to Kageyama's face, certainly. Daichi still lies awake sometimes, remembering the way the driver had grit his teeth, trying to force his legs to move. Given Kageyama's personality, it didn't seem like an issue he'd want shoved in his face.

"Yeah… she said he started getting better around when he started getting good with us," Suga says. Something light and warm fills Daichi's chest, and Suga tightens his grip around his waist. "Do you think…"

"What?" Daichi asks, as they pull into a parking spot near their apartment.

"Would it be _too_ much?" Suga wonders.

"Would what be too much?"

"Trying to…" Suga crinkles his forehead, looking so concerned that Daichi has to sling an arm around his shoulders. "What if we helped with this, too?"

"With…?" Daichi asks, as they make their way up the stairwell. "The walking? Physical therapy?"

"Yeah," Suga nods. "I mean, if he doesn't have anyone but us… the nurses said someone's allowed to be in the exercise room with him…"

"Would he even want that, though?" Daichi asks.

"I think he may not know if he would or not," Suga sighs. "I mean he didn't think he wanted us there at first, and now—" He scrolls through his phone. "He texted me the other day asking me to bring some of those cookies from the…" He waves his hand vaguely. "That one place, you know, with the dancing cupcake on the sign."

"The one you got him addicted to, yeah," Daichi says. "Is that him opening up to us or are you just spoiling him?"

"Both," Suga says, unashamed. "I think we should try. I mean you, you should."

"Why me?" Daichi asks, more curiosity than complaint.

"Because, Daichi," Suga says patiently. "You're you."

That seems to be the entirety of his argument. Daichi shrugs, confused.

"Well… alright, but how do I even know when he'll be in—"

Suga thrusts a piece of paper with dates and times scrawled on it into his chest. "Do I look like an amateur?"

Daichi almost interjects, but while (he's almost sure) it's the first time Suga has sweet talked his way into private hospital patient information, it's far from his first hustle, so he lets it slide.

"Okay," Daichi says, perusing the paper. "Let's give it a go."

*

He leaves Suga to close the shop on Thursday, gets to the hospital around a quarter after four, checks in with reception. The rehabilitation wing is on a different floor so he gets pointed in the right direction, and heads that way. Kageyama should be about halfway through his session, but it might be better this way. Daichi would prefer to see how it's going—Kageyama may not even need them. Maybe they're being presumptuous to assume.

He slips into the room, which is mostly empty. Two other patients, their therapists, and Kageyama, at the opposite end of the room. Strangely, there isn't anybody working with him. He sits by the wall alone, slowly working through a series of leg stretches. Daichi frowns.

An attendant by the wall seems to notice him watching.

"Friend of yours?" the man asks. Daichi isn't entirely shocked to hear the tone of surprise in his voice.

"You could say that," Daichi says. "How come no one's—"

"He doesn't want the help," the man shrugs. "Refuses it, gets frustrated. He'll let us do some of the stretches with him but that's it. I'm supposed to be with him today, but…" He waves a hand in Kageyama's direction.

They watch for a little while longer. Kageyama still hasn't noticed he's there—if anything, it seems like Kageyama is avoiding looking over in that corner of the room. Eventually, he sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. Then he pushes away, using his arms to scoot himself across the floor until he reaches the parallel bars.

"Tobio," the assistant calls out. "Let's try and take it a bit slower…"

Kageyama ignores him completely. He stretches up, managing to hook his fingers over the bar, and drags himself upward. His arms strain, his whole body shakes with the effort. Daichi is struck by how thin he looks.

"Tobio—" the man tries again, then sighs, shaking his head. "Every time, I swear…" He walks over to him, trying to talk to Kageyama, who continues struggling. Daichi catches snatches of the conversation, something about "Your legs aren't ready to support your weight yet," and, concerningly, "You could really hurt yourself—"

The man reaches out and tries to steady a now fully standing, but very wobbly Kageyama, and Kageyama tries to jerk away from him. Daichi goes from casually observing to jumping into action as everything goes very wrong. Kageyama overbalances himself, goes slipping sideways as the attendant tries to catch him, still trying to push him off. He falls heavily against the bars before sliding to the floor, just as Daichi reaches them.

"—was just trying to stand, I was _fine!"_ Kageyama is saying heatedly.

"You could use at least another week off your feet," his attendant tells him, exasperated.

"I _don't_ —"

"Kageyama," Daichi says (booms, really), and Kageyama whips his head around, noticing him for the first time.

"Sawamura!" he exclaims. "What are you doing here?!" Daichi feels a bit like the villain nemesis in a Saturday morning cartoon. Maybe this is the vibe he needs, though. He crosses his arms.

"Last I checked," he says, seriously, "you were a driver. _Not_ a physician."

"I'm—"

"Do I look like I'm asking you to argue with me?" Daichi says, smiling. He knows he's nailed The Smile, because Kageyama looks more afraid than he did when he thought Daichi had snuck into his room to kill him. "You do understand, right? You don't want to be stuck in here longer than you have to."

Kageyama stares at the floor and shakes his head. He mumbles something.

"Didn't catch that," Daichi says.

"Why are you even _here?"_ Kageyama asks him.

Daichi shrugs. "Suga was worried about you."

Kageyama blinks. "Suga…?"

"And Asahi, I'm sure," Daichi adds. "He is always worried about something, though." Kageyama just continues to stare at him. "I wasn't worried, I figured you'd be fine. But I did want to come by to see how things were going."

"I'm, uh," Kageyama looks away from him, continuing to blink. "I _am_ fine."

"Yeah," Daichi nods. "But you want to get out of here soon, right?" Kageyama nods.

"It's not going to be the fastest process," the therapist warns. He has the look of a man who has had to repeat this many, many times. "He suffered severe comminuted fractures in both legs. The bones were almost completely shattered."

Kageyama looks belligerent about even being reminded of this, but Daichi waves his hand, making a split second decision. "I may have an idea for something we can do about that."

"What idea?" Kageyama asks, sullen. Daichi senses he is pouting.

"Don't worry about it," Daichi says. He's not sure he can pull it off, so he doesn't want to show all his cards yet and get anyone's hopes up. Daichi claps Kageyama on the shoulder. "For now, just take it easy."

Kageyama considers this. "Fine."

"When's the next one?" Daichi asks.

"Thursday. Every other day. I don't remember what time, but I can ask one of the nurses."

"Great," Daichi says. "I'll help you back to your room and you can just text me the time later."

"Okay…" Kageyama says. "Why do you want to know the time?"

"So I can meet you here," Daichi tells him. "I can probably figure out how to help with some of the two person stretches. If that's okay with you."

"You don't have to do that," Kageyama mutters.

Daichi doesn't push anymore. He helps get Kageyama into his wheelchair and back up to his room, where Kageyama waves off the help of his physiotherapist trying to get him into bed. Daichi, however, he allows—a hand at his elbow, a shoulder to lean on, and once Kageyama is propped up in the pillows, they watch an episode of some sitcom together. After that, Daichi takes his leave, waving a goodbye which Kageyama returns as he flicks through TV channels.

Daichi is on his bike and about to pull away from the curb when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He has one new text message.

 **KAGEYAMA TOBIO  
** _Its thursday @ 3:15_

Daichi smiles fondly down at his phone before realizing what he's doing and looking around himself, tugging his leather jacket up higher toward his ears self-consciously.

 _See you then,_ he texts back.

*

Daichi's current plan may or may not be a little foolhardy, but it's not like he's never managed to pull off a harebrained scheme on little planning and less sleep before now. He doesn't see why this should be any different.

He enlists Asahi's help, although the other man is, predictably, nervous about their success rate. Suga he attempts to bring the discussion up with over dinner, only to be waved off. Suga is already well aware of the plan. When asked how, he only says vaguely that he has his sources, before disappearing into the bathroom to brush his teeth before bed. This is vaguely unsettling, as Daichi has only informed one other person (Asahi), although once he arrives at that realization, it also becomes clear who the source must be (again, Asahi).

"You don't think it's weird?" Daichi asks Suga later, arm around his waist as they lay in bed under the covers. "Or just flat out stupid?"

"No, I definitely think it falls under both those categories," Suga says, with a sleepy yawn. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't do it."

Daichi smiles. "Right. Okay, yeah."

During the day, in their off hours, they're at the hospital. Daichi does learn how to help with the two person stretches, but so do Suga and Asahi. They each bring their own brand of assistance. Daichi is firm and solid, a strong shoulder for Kageyama to lean on; Suga is loud and bubbly, always ending up in some kind of stretching situation gone awry that causes him to start laughing too hard, Kageyama shushing him as heads turn their way; Asahi is consistently nervous and doting, a little too gentle, and Kageyama usually winds up having to reassure _him_ that everything is fine.

Sometimes they learn that it's best to just sit on the sidelines, maybe reading a book or listening to music or just carrying on a conversation while Kageyama works to get his strength back, to stop the shaking in his legs, to stand again.

In the evenings, after work, they start to put The Plan into action. This requires a decent amount of ferrying things back and forth in Asahi's pick-up, trial and error of construction materials, Suga being a little dictator regarding the entire process (when it's _Daichi's_ idea, come on, now).

They also talk to doctors, nurses, physiotherapists extensively, and it's a good thing the staff at the hospital is now as familiar with them as they are with Kageyama's cranky old man routine. The plan no longer seems half-assed, when the team of medical professionals monitoring their main objective doesn't seem to think it's insane (maybe a little insane), but instead seems to feel like it may be a valid course of action. Daichi spends his nights on his busted up laptop that Suga procured for him as a questionably sketchy birthday present one year, reading article after article on therapy and rehab.

They know it's time when Asahi first calls Daichi while he's at work at the garage one evening. Suga is also working late, so Asahi was on Kageyama Duty that afternoon. Daichi can't pick up right away, he's with a customer, and a string of texts follows.

 **AZUMANE ASAHI  
** _Daichi call me urgent_

 **AZUMANE ASAHI  
** _r u there???_

 **AZUMANE ASAHI  
** _It's about Kageyama!_

Daichi excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He makes sure the other stalls are empty before pulling out his phone and dialing Asahi.

 _"What?"_ he hisses into the phone before Asahi can even get out a greeting. "I was in the middle of getting reamed because some guy thinks I'm overcharging for his tailpipe work!"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" Asahi yelps into the phone, and then says in a rush, "They say he can start on the parallel bars. Next week."

"Shit!" Daichi shouts, too loud, half excited and half panicked. "Text Suga. Tell him it's happening."

His phone buzzes in his hand and he looks down to see he's received a text mid-call.

 **SUGAWARA KOUSHI  
** _It's happening!_

Daichi swears into the phone. "Dammit, Asahi, you didn't tell me first? It's my plan!"

"Suga picked up first," Asahi says apologetically.

The bathroom door opens, and Daichi hangs up.

Asahi actually drives over to the apartment later to find out if Daichi is angry with him, and ends up crashing overnight on their couch, passed out with Suga, _When Harry Met Sally_ playing on their uselessly small television set. Daichi turns it off and throws a blanket over them both before heading to bed, where he is torn between feeling slightly lonely, or slightly pleased he does not have to fight Suga for blankets, for once.

He stares up at the ceiling for a long time. Next week, they put the plan into action. He should feel more apprehensive.

He recalls the way Kageyama's face looked the first time they'd met, pallid and sunken cheeks and a dull blue stare under his lashes. Compared to now, clear, sharp eyes, strong jaw, mouth nearing a smirk or a smile as he stoically endures their antics.

It's a bit of a crazy plan, but none of them doubt it's the right one.

*

Kageyama is, understandably, bewildered, when they all show up in his room the next day with his primary doctor, his physiotherapist, a wheelchair, and his release paperwork.

"I… don't understand," he says, slowly. "I thought I was just starting on the bars this week." He looks at the papers in his hands. "This says I can go home."

"That's the score," his doctor says, checking something off on a piece of paper attached to his clipboard.

"But how will I—" Kageyama looks blankly around at them all. "I still can't—I can't." It doesn't sound like he means this to be the end of his sentence, but that's where he stops, balling his fists against his legs, and the paperwork in his hand crumples.

"Not yet," Suga says quietly, taking the papers from him. "But if you come with us, we think you'll understand. We want to show you everything and then… you can make your decision, okay?"

Kageyama stares at them for a long moment, and during it, Daichi is afraid—afraid they've pushed him too far, afraid he won't want to try what they're hoping, afraid that maybe, maybe they haven't helped him as much as Daichi had thought. Maybe the changes he's been seeing were imagined.

But then the dark-haired boy nods. He doesn't ask any more questions. He say, "Okay."

Daichi breathes the biggest sigh of relief through his nose, silent—Suga still notices, and punches him in the arm, even as he says, cheerfully, "Then let's get moving!"

Daichi doesn't miss the look Suga gives him, either, as they help Kageyama into the wheelchair. The one that says _I told you there was nothing to worry about._

He's not quite sure about that yet, though. First, they need to get home.

The first problem presents itself when they get to the hospital parking lot. Daichi rode his bike, and Suga and Asahi drove together. But as he's starting to puzzle out the logistics of getting Kageyama from the wheelchair into the front seat, Suga opens the passenger side door and Kageyama makes a choking noise, and the knuckles of his hands on his armrests go white as he grips them tightly.

"Kageyama?" Daichi asks, immediately concerned.

Kageyama seems to be fighting between two impulses—his head tilts to the right, as though he is trying very hard to turn it. But he twitches, like hedoesn't  _want_ to turn, eyelids closed but fluttering.

Suga closes the car door and crouches in front of him. "Kageyama, what's wrong?" he asks, soft, but firm. "We aren't going to force you into this. If you don't feel ready—"

"No," Kageyama says harshly. "No, I want to. I want to go." He takes several deep breaths before he opens his eyes again. "I can't get in the car."

Daichi's eyes meet Suga's as they realize what he means. It's a painful understanding that passes between them. Daichi hadn't considered this, which suddenly seems incredibly stupid of him.

"Okay," he says calmly, though he doesn't feel calm—he feels like someone is trying to pull his heart out. He has seen the way Kageyama's face lights up when anyone talks about racing. But he can't get in a car. "That's fine. How do you think is best to do this? It isn't that far, we could walk—"

"The bike," Kageyama says. "I can—it's just being buckled in and—surrounded—" His face is going white and his pupils wide and dark. Daichi puts a hand on his shoulder, but it's Asahi who speaks up first.

"You don't need to explain it," he says. He's not quite looking at Kageyama, but he nods, reassuringly. Probably reassuring both himself, and Kageyama, Daichi thinks. "If you ever want to talk about it, we're listening but… you don't have to explain because you think we need to hear it."

Kageyama stares at him so hard that Asahi starts to turn red, swallowing nervously, but then Kageyama says, "The bike. Is good."

It takes some maneuvering—but eventually they get Kageyama situated behind Daichi, holding tightly around his middle.

"Is this safe enough?" Asahi asks.

"My _arms_ work fine," Kageyama responds, and Daichi ends up having to just drive away before Asahi stops apologizing, because otherwise he suspects they will be stuck in the parking lot until the end of time.

He drives a modicum slower than he normally would, but Kageyama seems to be fine anyhow. When Daichi glances over his shoulder, briefly, he can see out of the corner of his eye that the boy is turning his head from side to side, with a smile on his face, and he realizes—this is the first time Kageyama has been outside the hospital walls in weeks.

Speaking of which, he's starting to look very curious by the time they've found parking and are waiting for Suga and Asahi to drive up with the wheelchair.

"I promise in about ten minutes, everything is going to become really obvious," Daichi tells him, "and you'll either think we're completely crazy or… still think we're pretty crazy, but hopefully you're fine with it."

"I already think you're crazy," Kageyama informs him.

"That's probably for the best."

Almost ten minutes later, they've wheeled him in through the entryway of the small apartment complex and to their front door.

"Ready?" Suga asks.

"You still haven't told me where we are…" Kageyama says.

"Oh!" Daichi says, as Suga laughs ("Really? You rode back here with him and didn't mention?"). "Sorry. This is our apartment. Mine and Suga's." Kageyama looks surprised, and probably a little weirded out, so Daichi quickly unlocks the door. "This is why I was waiting!"

He hurries inside and Suga pushes Kageyama in after him. The blinds over the living room windows are open, so the small space is illuminated. There is a large object sitting in the middle of the floor and taking up most of it. It's the reason they brought Kageyama back with them.

Kageyama's face is slack as he stares at it. He wheels himself forward just a few feet to get closer, before looking up at Daichi.

"This is… is this what you've…?" He's at a loss for words.

Daichi nods. "Yeah. What do you think?"

Kageyama shakes his head. "These are expensive. They're, like, crazy expensive."

"Yeah, we found that out pretty early on," Daichi admits.

"So we built one!" Suga tacks on cheerfully. "Well, Daichi built one, and Asahi and I helped. Mostly."

Daichi chuckles. "They helped a lot."

Kageyama reaches out and puts his hand on the set of homebrew parallel bars the three of them spent weeks laboring away on. He still looks like he can't speak, so Daichi just starts talking.

"They're fully adjustable," he says. "And the floor axis, too, that can be tilted to simulate walking uphill, downhill, or just straight across. They said at the hospital that that was really good for you. It's not quite as streamlined as the ones you can find online, sure, and, uh, it sounds like a robot is trying to destroy the building when adjusting between inclines, so hopefully we don't get noise complaints, but…"

He's actually pretty proud of their work, honestly. And he thinks that the bars will provide everything Kageyama could need, while he gets back up to speed. He just hopes…

"So this is…" Kageyama swallows. "I'll come here, then? When I need to use them? Or will we move them to my place? I don't know if my crewmates would—well, anyway, we can just keep them here and—"

"Actually," Suga says, "we were thinking maybe you'd just stay here. As long as you need to use them."

Kageyama doesn't move his hand off the bars, doesn't take his eyes from them, doesn't say anything for a moment. Then he croaks, "What?"

"You need… some help," Daichi says, honestly. He knows Kageyama hates the thought of that, but it's true. "You just need a little bit of help, while you're healing. You can't just go from getting out of the hospital to living on your own, so you can stay here for a bit, we'll try to stay out of your way, but if you _need_ anything… you can just ask."

Kageyama remains silent. The other three look at each other, wondering, again. Then he lets out something like a small gasp and pulls away from the bar, covering his face with one hand. Daichi doesn't know what to say, isn't sure what that means.

But then Kageyama says, "Yeah," his voice shaking, just slightly. "Yeah, I—I need a little help."

Asahi turns around and Daichi knows he's crying. Daichi doesn't usually cry, but he has to clear his throat before responding.

"Well, that's settled!" he says briskly. "We have a guest room—it's tiny, sorry—" Kageyama shakes his head, hand still over his eyes. "Let's go take a look at it, you can tell me if there's anything you need."

Kageyama wipes over his face with his hand, before looking at Daichi again. His nose is red and his eyes are bright. "Okay."

Suga doesn't touch the wheelchair anymore, he lets Kageyama handle it, pushing himself forward to follow after Daichi. Daichi takes him to the room, turns on the lights. He turns to say something, but Kageyama gets there first.

"Thanks," he says.

"It's nothing," Daichi says, and it really feels like it isn't. Not an imposition, not a hardship. But it's something, in what it means.

"No," Kageyama says. "I mean for… for coming up that one day. To see how I was doing."

Daichi nods, and puts a hand on the top of his head. "I'm glad I did," he says, and absolutely doesn't notice when Kageyama nods and blinks rapidly and looks down at his lap. "Come on, let's see if we have literally _anything_ in the fridge right now…"

*

Kageyama fits into their lives surprisingly easily.

It isn't just that he's quiet, and polite almost to a fault, despite his characteristic bluntness. These things help, but more than that, it's extracting him from his shell that makes cohabitation not only possible or bearable, but… fun.

This is the word Daichi would best use to describe it, if asked. Because it is fun, to have almost not enough space on the couch when they all unload onto it, Suga and Kageyama cramming in the center with the majority of the blankets, while Asahi and Daichi fight with the armrests to get comfortable. It is fun to come home to Suga making dinner, and Kageyama playing DJ with Daichi's old laptop, his favorite blend of classic and contemporary rock blaring through the tinny speakers. And it is fun, when Kageyama rides along with Daichi to the shop.

Daichi had been only mildly worried about what his manager might say to letting an unknown kid hang around the shop—the man is laid back, hires workers based on skill and merit, and likes to share a beer after hours—but he does have to spend a bit of time helping Kageyama get around, at least until one of the other mechanics brings in an old wheelchair with squeaky wheels they can use when Kageyama comes in with Daichi.

But Kageyama ends up impressing them soon enough, endearing himself to the group of grease-stained, boisterous men in no time at all. He spends a lot of time sitting, observing Daichi and the others as they work, and it turns out his genius with cars extends far beyond racing. He understands the machine as well, like he can hear the sound of an engine or feel the thrum under the hood, and instantly know what's wrong. He can diagnose a problem with a quickness, even faster than some of the old hands, and instead of begrudging him his skill, they welcome it—saves time and expense, after all.

But in between the fun come all the parts that aren't. And fun or not, Daichi and Suga and Asahi are still there, during the hard sessions on the parallel bars, through the frustration of slow progress, waiting out that look Kageyama gets on his face, when his legs shake trying to support the weight of his body, though he tries again and again.

And then, one night, they shake, and shake, and the shaking isn't enough to stop him. Daichi looks over from the drama he and Suga are watching at a choked sort of yell from the corner of the room, where Asahi and Kageyama are in the midst of a session.

Kageyama gestures wildly at Asahi, who is already springing forward, crutches in hand, to help support him, and Kageyama shoves them under his armpits with a sort of almost sadistic vengeance, and then that's it, he's standing strong enough to keep going, lurching around the room probably faster than is advisable, but they don't stop him. He was never made for slow. (He's still moving pretty slow.)

It's a turning point. He can't use them all the time, not at first, but the feeling, near-walking, is enough to put a smile on his face, not restrained or hesitant or sardonic. A big smile, he looks straight at Daichi and beams at him.

"Slow down there, champ," Daichi tells him, returning the grin.

"No," Kageyama says, as he wobbles past, all breakneck speed.

Later on, sandwiched in between Suga and Daichi with a heaping bowl of green tea ice cream in his hands, Kageyama happily licks his spoon clean and says,

"Suga, tomorrow, can I come with you to visit the shop?"

He means where Daichi works, and Daichi opens his mouth to say Kageyama can ride in with him in the morning, when he realizes.

Kageyama is still laying into his ice cream, and seems not to notice Suga staring at him, as he says, "Sounds good. We can take my car, is that okay?"

"Yeah," Kageyama says.

Suga nods. "Okay. Great." He stretches his arm over the back of the couch behind Kageyama until he can reach Daichi, brushing his fingers lightly against the back of his neck. Daichi inhales, exhales.

They don't say anything else about it for the rest of the night.

The next day at work, Daichi watches the clock. He knows when Suga finishes his shift giving lessons at the local driving school. He knows how long it will take him to get home, pick up Kageyama, and get to the shop. He also knows that Suga may get there and there won't be anyone else in the car with him, and he is prepared for that possibility. It would be okay, he thinks, in light of how far they've already come.

But it's just a little over half past five when Suga's silver car pulls into the lot, and when he gets out, he hurries around to the passenger side right away. He opens it and helps Kageyama out, steadying him as he gets situated on his crutches—and he looks fine, to Daichi's eyes, _good,_ even. Like a weight has been lifted off of him.

There's a loud whoop from one of the other workers who spots him, a boisterous "Yeah!" and Kageyama looks up and waves. Daichi ambles over, wiping his hands clean on an old rag.

"How was the drive?" he asks, hoping he sounds nonchalant.

"Fine," Kageyama says. And then, perhaps because Daichi wasn't as successful as he hoped at being casual, he adds, "Good. It was good."

Daichi nods. "Good."

Suga gives them two thumbs up and a huge smile. "Great!"

This is all that needs to be said. Kageyama is standing upright and he's riding in cars and his smiles reach his eyes and—he's going to be okay, Daichi realizes. He's seen it happening, every step of the way, and maybe he hadn't been able to admit his own worries to himself. But he feels it too, the weight coming up off his shoulders, because this kid is coming out on top, first in the race.

It suits him.

*

It feels like they've finally hit the plateau before the eventual downhill slope. Kageyama is mostly just strength training now, trying to get his body back to where it used to be. His balance on the crutches has improved and he is now _genuinely_ fast on them.

Sometimes too fast. They will all probably never live down the time he burst into Daichi and Suga's bedroom slightly unsolicited to announce they were missing their favorite game show, only to go stumbling back out with his hands over his eyes, winding up flat on his back in the hallway in a loud clattering mess of lanky human and crutches. Daichi still isn't sure if Kageyama is more mortified over the fact that he fell, or that they had to help him back up with a bedsheet tied around Suga's waist, and Daichi using a pillow to more or less keep himself decent.

But small mishaps like this aside, everything is so _comfortable_ that Daichi is having a hard time conceiving things going back to normal. Normal here meaning the tiny apartment a bit less packed, and the absence of an excessive amount of ACDC, and watching Kageyama go back to his old life.

He wonders if he's experiencing a sort of pre-empty nest syndrome. Of course, they'll still see Kageyama at the circuit races, and probably even more outside of that, but it still makes him feel off, to just hand Kageyama off with a _see you around,_ depositing him back with, Daichi has _not_ forgotten, a crew that for all intents and purposes left him to fend for himself. He understands the importance of sticking with your crew, but loyalty only extends so far. He and Suga and Asahi know that firsthand.

That's why, when Kageyama's crew comes to get him back, they aren't so ready to let that happen.

In point of fact, it's not the entire crew, or anything. Judging by what little Kageyama has said, most of them would be more than happy to see him gone. His manager, on the other hand, will have been losing money the past several months in his absence, and so it's him who shows up at the shop one hot dusty Saturday afternoon at the garage.

Kageyama, Suga, and Asahi are all there, and it's actually Suga who notices him come in first, moseying over to see if he needs help (Suga, without fail, always falls into the habit of _acting_ like he works at the shop, and he's knowledgeable and likable enough to get away with it).

When he calls out, "Daichi…", something in his voice stiffens Daichi's shoulders even before he turns around. He looks, he sees Suga standing with a man in his late thirties-early forties, wiry and tough, slightly balding already, the flash of a tattoo poking from under the collar of his shirt, dark sunglasses.

And then he hears the intake of breath from Kageyama sitting next to him, the not-quite-nervous, yet not at ease way he says, "Oh, I… that's my…"

"Is that your manager?" Daichi asks, because he's been expecting this.

"Yeah," Kageyama says. "I'll go see what he… I'll see why he's here."

"Me too," Daichi says, waiting while Kageyama gets to his feet, and they walk over together.

"Kageyama," the man says, hands on his hips. He nods and grins and puts a hand on Kageyama's shoulder gingerly, before pulling away. Kageyama inclines his head. "Good to see you up and about! Really good. Still on the crutches, though?"

"Yeah, it'll take a little longer," Kageyama tells him. "But I'm getting there."

"Good, good," the man says again. "Well, it did throw us for a loop, when we heard you were out of the hospital so early, but I spoke to some of the staff there and they said you were staying with some friends. Are these, uh…?"

"Yep," Daichi says, folding his arms across his chest. "We're the ones who helped him."

He's not sure why he throws this statement out there like a dagger, but he really can't help himself. He hopes it doesn't embarrass Kageyama, but Kageyama is nodding in agreement.

"Ah," the man says. "Thank you, can't thank you enough. I can take him off your hands, now, and if you need anything in repayment, we can discuss—"

"We don't need anything," Daichi says flatly, at the same time Suga blurts, "Take him off our _hands?"_

"Yes, I was told he was living with you?" the manager nods.

"Which he'll keep doing," Suga says. "Until he's ready to leave."

"That's generous," says Kageyama's manager. "But the tournament circuit starts up in a few months, and we need him back. We'll have to see if he can get back up to speed—"

"I—what?" Kageyama asks, speaking up for the first time. "You want me to race? In the fall?"

His manager blinks. "Of course! Tobio, you didn't think we'd count you out that easily, did you?"

"No…" Kageyama shakes his head. "No, I just—I'm—"

"At the rate you're going, I'm sure a couple weeks will be more than enough time to get you back behind the wheel."

Kageyama sways on his crutches. His manager continues on, unobservant.

"The only thing is—look, the car is messed up. Pretty bad. It's been impounded, but I went to take a look at it and… I don't see how we can be ready to race it in time. It'll be a hell of a job, even for you—"

"I don't want anyone to touch it," Kageyama says hoarsely. He's looking at the ground, eyes wide, face pale.

"Don't worry, I figured that. Look, we made sure they won't scrap it—"

Kageyama lets out a kind of gasping wheeze, and Asahi moves closer to him, looking as concerned as Daichi feels.

"—but you'd probably have to race with another car for awhile. I don't know, maybe you can check it out—"

"I can't race," Kageyama says, through gritted teeth. "I can't—"

"Tobio, you'll be fine. I know you're picky about what you drive—"

"He said he can't race," Suga butts in, stepping forward, putting half himself between the manager and Kageyama.

The man sizes him up. "I heard him. I'm not convinced. Losing your car's a blow, I get it! I was a racer once, too, you know."

"It's not," Kageyama starts to say. He steadies himself on the crutches, looks up at the man. He's got some expression on that Daichi can't read. "It's not just the car."

"Tobio," the man says. His voice is soothing, but it grates on Daichi's nerves, makes him grind his teeth. "You took a hit. I know. I saw the accident. But you gotta get back up, get moving. You owe it to yourself."

"Is that what you think?" Suga asks, and Daichi can hear the fury in his calm voice. "He survived the crash, he fought the injury, he got out of the hospital, he's made himself _walk_ again. Does he owe it to himself get back on the track right now, or do you think he owes it to _you?"_

"Look—" the man says, and his good nature seems to be waning. "I don't know if you think you're some kind of guardian to him now, or whatever. But the fact is that he's on my crew, and he's gonna race for us. I've seen him out there, he's a monster, he loves it. He—"

"I _do_ love it," Kageyama says. His manager opens his mouth, looking triumphant, but then Kageyama keeps speaking. "But I— _can't._ I can't. I can't."

And Daichi realizes that what he's seeing on Kageyama's face is… shame.

"Maybe not right now," his manager says. "But you'll get back out there and you _will._ Besides, Tobio, what else are you going to do?"

"I—"

"Mechanic," a soft voice says, and they all turn to look at Asahi. He goes red, but forces himself to keep speaking. "He's… he's really good. With cars." Kageyama is staring at him too, and he says, apologetically, "I know it's not—like racing. But, for now, at least…"

Daichi says, "You could work here."

Now Kageyama turns to stare at him. Daichi stares back, unfazed, but more importantly—this _is_ an option. For the time being, if Kageyama wants it.

After a moment, Kageyama nods. Asahi looks relieved.

But his manager is not appeased.

"This is stupid," he snaps. "You're all—Kageyama, come on, we can talk about this later. Let's go." He goes to muscle past Suga, reaches for Kageyama, and Suga puts one hand on his arm.

"Don't do that," he says to the manager.

The man shakes him off, puts a rough hand on Kageyama's arm, and Kageyama stumbles a bit, caught off guard, not ready to comply.

Daichi _could,_ later, say he didn't know what was about to happen. He could, but that would be a lie, and he tries not to tell those.

As soon as Kageyama loses his balance, Suga cracks. Daichi watches from a sort of place of peaceful serenity as his boyfriend cocks his fist back and then punches Kageyama's manager straight in the nose, breaking his sunglasses in the process.

The issue is resolved quickly after that. Kageyama's manager attempts to call the cops, threatening to press assault charges. Suga's smile is scarier than Daichi's when he invites him to go ahead, and besides the fact that they have over fifteen witnesses who saw the man make an attempt to grab an injured Kageyama, Suga has enough… _friends_ on the police force that Daichi isn't worried.

But the most damning case of all is the fact that Kageyama refuses to leave with him. And so he's forced out, all bark and no bite, with his tail between his legs.

Once he's gone, Kageyama takes a deep breath. He still looks troubled, and for a moment, Daichi is worried. He admitted a difficult thing, just now.

But the kid takes a breath and says, "About me working here. You really think they'd let me?"

Daichi laughs. "Are you kidding? They'd probably start you tomorrow, if they could. Want to talk to my boss after work?"

Kageyama doesn't even think before he nods. "Yeah. Can't hurt."

*

There's a new level of quiet camaraderie between them that evening. Despite the way things had ended with Kageyama's manager, Kageyama seems calm. He isn't bound to the crew, that isn't the way the street scene works, and when he does decide to return to racing, Daichi is sure he'll do fine as a lone wolf, or with finding a new crew. Daichi has a few thoughts about that second option, as well—but it's too early to voice them, just yet.

They also move quick upon hearing the fate of the Dark Horse. Daichi's boss has a friend who knows a guy (who knows another guy who works at the impound), and after some calls go through, he tells them they can pick up the car next week during their contact's shift, no questions asked. They'll be able to keep it at the shop where Daichi works. The look of relief on Kageyama's face when he hears this news is almost tangible, the way he sags, the way his voice sounds when he says a quiet, "Thanks."

Asahi heads back to his own place after dinner, and the rest of them retire relatively soon after, Suga in anticipation of an early start the next morning, and Daichi because it's been a long day.

He's finally just dozing off when a noise brings him startling out of near sleep. Suga is still lights out next to him, but Daichi is still sure he heard it—a loud thump from the living room. He doesn't hear anything else, but, careful not to wake Suga, he climbs out of bed and goes to investigate.

The living room is dim, the only light source the moon filtering through the blinds. Daichi blinks, and catches sight of a figure huddled on the ground by the parallel bars.

"Kageyama?" Daichi asks, and then, as he moves across the room. "Hey, Kageyama—"

"Daichi," he hears his friend say, sounding shaken. "I'm fine, I was—you can go back to—"

"What are you doing this for so late?" Daichi asks, flicking on the overhead light. Kageyama blinks and squints and Daichi realizes that his face is wet. He halts in his advance. "Kageyama…"

Kageyama looks up at him from the ground and his hands clench into fists on the carpet and his face just—crumples.

Daichi crosses to him in a few big strides, crouches next to him, and pulls Kageyama's head against his chest. Kageyama reaches up, curls his hands at Daichi's back and shakes, big, silent sobs interspersed with gasps for breath as he cries through the front of Daichi's shirt.

"S-sorry—" he tries to say, but Daichi isn't having any of it.

"It's probably way past time you did this," he tells him.

Like he's just granted Kageyama permission, the wall finally comes down.

"What's the point?" Kageyama heaves out. "I'm almost walking again and—so _what?_ Who the fuck cares about that if I can't—if I—"

"I care," Daichi says. "And Suga cares. And Asahi cares."

"But _I don't care,"_ Kageyama says. "Whether I'm walking or not, either way, I don't want to race."

"Okay, then," Daichi says. "Why are you crying?"

"Wh-what?" Kageyama asks, accompanied by an enormous sniff.

"If you don't want to race, then you don't have to race," Daichi points out. "So why are you crying?"

"Because I—" Kageyama seems baffled. "I don't know what I'm supposed to _do,_ if I don't want to do that. I love racing, I—"

"Ah," Daichi says calmly, drawing back so they can sit alongside each other. "So then, do you not want to race? Or do you just not want to race _right now?"_

Kageyama wipes his nose with the back of his hand, and sniffs again, and stares at his legs. "I don't… know."

"Don't you think maybe that's okay?" Daichi asks.

Kageyama finally looks up at him. "You don't… you don't think I owe it to myself?"

Daichi snorts. "No, I don't think that." Kageyama frowns at him, and he shrugs. "Will racing make you happy right now?"

Kageyama's frown deepens. "I want it to. I miss it already. But…"

"But you _are_ afraid," Daichi prompts, gently.

He feels something twist inside himself when Kageyama puts a hand over his face. Being afraid, scared, unable to do the thing he loves, is devastating him. This is plain to see. But there are no magic words Daichi can say to yank him across the divide. There isn't an easy, fast way to recovery.

All they can do is keep moving forward.

"You're afraid," Daichi says again, and Kageyama hunches in on himself. Daichi puts a hand on the back of his neck. "And that's perfectly okay."

"It doesn't feel okay," Kageyama mumbles.

"No, I imagine it feels like shit," Daichi agrees, and that gets at least a sardonic snort from the younger man. "But you've felt like shit before and you walked out of that."

"What if I don't _stop_ being afraid?" Kageyama asks him.

Daichi has no answer for this either, except a feeling right in his gut. "What if you do? What if you wake up tomorrow and you want to race so bad, you miss it so much, that you can get behind the wheel right then and there?"

Kageyama's mouth twists. "I don't think that's going to happen."

"Me neither," Daichi admits. "But, we both know you want it to. And maybe not tomorrow, but someday? Say something makes you feel that way. Drags you back behind the wheel. When you get that feeling, the one that outweighs the fear—I think that's when you owe it to yourself." He ruffles Kageyama's hair. "But until then, you only owe it to yourself to get well." Kageyama makes a noncommittal noise, and Daichi pokes him in the side. "Right?"

"Right, right," Kageyama says, wriggling away.

"Good," Daichi says. He stands, offering an arm to Kageyama, who takes it, pulling himself to his feet with an ease that Daichi almost could not have imagined, less than a month ago. He nods, approvingly. "Until then, there's the mechanic gig at the shop. I know you like working on cars, so it won't be too bad—and anyway, I've started doing some thinking…"

He trails off, not sure yet if it's time to talk about his more grandiose plans for the future. For their own crew.

Kageyama is looking at him curiously. "What?"

Daichi shakes his head. "Nah, nothing. I'll tell you later. For now… we both need sleep."

Kageyama scoffs, and doesn't quite successfully hide a yawn. "Maybe you do, I'm not tired yet."

"Sure," Daichi tells him. "Well, this old man is heading to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Sleep well," Kageyama says, settling onto the couch, reaching for the TV remote. Daichi smiles and shakes his head. "Oh, and um. I mean, I know I say this kind of a lot, but—"

Daichi is already getting ready to wave off his thanks, as usual, but—

"I don't think I've ever thanked you guys for being my friends," Kageyama says. "And it's probably way past time I did that, as well."

Daichi drops his hand. Kageyama has thanked them for a lot of things over the past couple of months. But this one is new, and even though Daichi had known (well, assumed, but _basically)_ they are friends, it's really something different, hearing Kageyama acknowledge it.

"Thanks for letting us," Daichi says. He catches the corner of Kageyama's smile as he flicks off the lights in the living room.

"Night, Kageyama."

*

It's nearly fall, getting colder, chilly, even. Summer finally starting to fade, and with it goes the heat of the blacktop on a race circuit, the particular kind of hot that comes with working on a car in the midday sun, the way the air stays warm as it turns to early morning. And fall brings red taillights, race nights, the ones that make the steam curl like fog from exhaust pipes, while the crowd stands huddled close together waiting for the flag to drop.

The first race of the underground tournament is that night, but maybe they'll just stay in, Daichi thinks. It's up to what the others want to do. He fumbles for his keys at the apartment door, but it's just cold enough out that his fingers are an annoying kind of stiff numbness and he fumbles it, can't quite get it to turn enough. He hears footsteps from inside and decides to wait for Suga to rescue him.

The door opens, flung almost startlingly wide, and he looks up in surprise.

"Welcome back," Kageyama says, and for a second Daichi is confused. He'd been sure it was Suga, because—

Because he's used to the extra, shuffling sound of crutches when Kageyama walks, and he hadn't heard them.

Because Kageyama is walking unaided.

"I… you're—" Daichi sputters. "When?"

Kageyama grins fiercely. "Just now."

Then he has to grab onto Daichi's arm—one step at a time, after all—and Daichi moves inside the apartment, letting Kageyama grip onto his shoulder. Suga is standing at the kitchen counter beaming at them, a steaming mug of tea in his hands. This seems like an excellent plan to Daichi, and Suga starts bustling about to make more once he sees the way Daichi stares at the mug.

"We were just talking about you," he says, clattering about in the cupboards.

"Oh?" Daichi asks, as Kageyama snags his crutches from against the wall again, leaning onto them.

"Yeah," Kageyama says. "We were wondering… would you wanna go check out some of the races, tonight?"

Daichi looks between him and Suga. Suga nods, smiling. Kageyama just looks at Daichi, rather intensely.

Daichi grins at him. "Yeah," he says. "Definitely."

Kageyama nods decisively, and then starts talking at roughly a mile a minute, about the different crews, who he thinks has the strongest shot this year, based on the races and cars and driver experience. Suga makes enough tea for all of them, and they sit around the tiny table, discussing the racing. Kageyama's eyes shine.

Daichi sits back, and drinks his tea, and thinks about how far they've made it, all of them, in their own ways. How much further they will go.

The finish line may always be blurry in the distance, but they race for it anyway. And for people like them, that's perfect.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> A Kageyama ["Dark Horse" graphic](http://esselley.tumblr.com/post/151523532474/hinata-kageyama-they-didnt-call-kageyama-tobio) to match Hinata's :) It felt super strange for me, writing about Kageyama without the sunshine to his shadow, but I really wanted to tell this story from this verse. 
> 
> Thank you so much to [Ellie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/pseuds/Ellessey) for beta-ing, and to her, RC and Celesoran for cheering me through this. The initial name of this fic was Stalled Out, which I very much _was_ and would have remained without their encouragement  <3
> 
> [I'm [@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]


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